Perdita
by inactive account here lol
Summary: When Hermione Granger is Sorted into Slytherin, she fears that the stereotypes placed on her House will lead her to failure. With the help of her friends Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood, and her own wits, she attempts to save Slytherin and help others to realize that labels mean nothing when compared to souls.


Perdita: A Dramione AU

chapter 1

novus

* * *

The snow fell silently outside the windows of the Malfoy Manor, blanketing the perfectly cut grass in a layer of cold, pure white. It was summer, yes, but ever since the gardener's wages had been cut, he'd been tormenting the manor's occupants with curses of stormy days.

Draco didn't mind, though. He stayed inside most of the time, only venturing outdoors to fetch the mail or greet a visitor. He knew his father would get rid of this gardener soon enough, anyway, like the thirty-something gardeners before this one.

An owl darted past Draco's third-floor window for just a second or two, and he was soon downstairs ready to greet the owl that, he knew, was scheduled to arrive today. Lucius was waiting, the acceptance letter in his hands, when Draco slid down the railing and skidded to a halt in front of his father.

"Draco," his mother Narcissa scolded, but looked delightedly at the letter. "Well, it appears we'll have to take a trip to Diagon Alley soon and get your things. I have an old cauldron down in the cellar too; we can sell that to Borgin...every potion brewed in it turns out perfect."

Skimming the letter, Draco looked eagerly up at his father and held up a hand with his palm facing himself-his request to talk-and Lucius said, "You may speak now," in a bitter, resentful voice.

"This is bloody brilliant!" Draco burst out before his father had finished, causing Lucius's eyes to narrow. "My apologies, Father, I-"

He stopped talking abruptly, and his mother swallowed as Lucius raised his wand.

"I will let you slide," he murmured. "But another toe out of line and the isolation chamber will be waiting for you."

Narcissa bowed her head as Draco stepped back, his gait unsteady. He had spent too many hours locked in the isolation chamber, banging his fists against the soundless walls in the hopeless hope of escaping, but to no avail. Lucius's punishments were harsh and unexpected, especially when he could use magic and his son could not. Draco swore he was going insane in that room for hours on end, days sometimes, and it was only when his mother performed psychological healing spells that he relaxed.

"I will not have you embarrassing me when Severus visits, or when the Dark Lord rises and you become his accomplice," Lucius snarled, slamming his cane on the kitchen countertop. "Go up to your room. Do not come out for the rest of the day."

Draco stumbled away eagerly, always willing to get away from his father, and ran upstairs to his room, locking the door and flopping onto his black-sheeted bed.

There came a knock, and he did not respond.

"Master," a wobbly voice called, "Master is going to the Diagon Alley with Mistress Narcissa on the last day of month, sir, to fetch Master's school things"-there came a great roar from downstairs- "and Dobby must return to Master Lucius, now, sir, Dobby bids Master farewell!" And Dobby scurried away to another beating from Draco's father.

Draco had spent a grand total of three hundred thirty-seven hours in the isolation chamber in his life. In those hours he would be confined to a five-by-five-by-five room containing nothing but him. The walls and floor were black. There was no light. And he had to either crouch down or sit, for as long as Lucius intended, until he was allowed out.

 _Insanity…._

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, Hermione Granger carefully finished her college application essay, tucking it away in a folder just as her mother knocked and peeked into her room.

"Hello, Mum," Hermione said, shoving the folder under a thick textbook.

"Hermione, you've got to see this," Doctor Jean Rashida Granger said urgently, ignoring Hermione's sudden hiding of the essay. "There's an owl that delivered a letter that says you've been accepted to a magical school-"

"An _owl_ delivered a _what-"_

"Come outside, dear," Jean sighed. "I'm not sure if it's a prank, we've got to contact someone soon…"

But they did not contact anyone, for a tall woman with a stern glare was waiting in the sitting room for Hermione and her mother, reading a magazine titled _Transfiguration Today._ Doctor Christopher John Granger, Hermione's father, sat on an armchair across from the unknown woman, twiddling his thumbs and looking nervously from his wife to the lady.

"Ah, Miss Granger," she said, standing and folding up her magazine.

"Who exactly-"

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the woman interrupted, extending her hand. Hermione did not take it.

"Who let you in?" she demanded distrustingly.

"This gentleman; I assume he is your father?" McGonagall smiled at Christopher, who jumped in his seat and nodded. "As Muggles, you will not be knowing-"

"Excuse me-"

"Please." McGonagall cut off Jean boldly. "I will explain in due course….you're ought to trust me, Hermione; of course…."

Hermione had a funny feeling she should be trusting this McGonagall person, even though she had never met her before. As a curious eleven-year-old, Hermione felt it was her duty to welcome new ideas and branches of thought into her life.

"Do you trust me?" McGonagall questioned.

"I do," Hermione answered.

And so, under the constant worrying and warnings of Christopher and Jean Granger, Hermione followed McGonagall out into the world with a bit of money, a rucksack, and the knowledge that she was in good hands.

* * *

Draco pulled on his Muggle clothes-an emerald-green sweatshirt, black jeans, and dark gray sneakers-and ran downstairs to meet his mother by the front door at precisely five fifty-three a.m.

"Lucius is patrolling the fires, and I didn't want to ask permission to use any of them ever since he got pissed off by the new gardener," Mrs. Malfoy whispered as they headed out the front door. "I'm taking you by Side-Along Apparition to the Leaky Cauldron, but we'll have to take the Muggle way back; Lucius hates how people Apparate into the garden...we're not even supposed to be out...I told Dobby to tell him we were getting school things, but we do need to get out of the house, don't we?"

Draco resented how he and his mother had to fear her husband, and how they had to sneak around just to get to Diagon Alley and shop. Mrs. Malfoy was terrified of Lucius, and even though Draco was just eleven, he understood she came from a poor pureblood family and only married Lucius for his money.

They Apparated, and ended up in the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom the bartender raised a glass to Mrs. Malfoy. She beamed at him, looking rather delighted now that she was out of the manor. "All right there, Tom?"

"Well enough, madam," Tom replied jubilantly. "Draco, my, how you've grown! Last time I've seen you, you were just a lad!"

"I'm still 'just a lad'," Draco laughed, feeling the immense relief of being able to speak without permission. "Looking good; are those new robes?"

Tom chuckled. "Of course, of course...Madam Malkin's always the best. Not too shabby yourself, now, Draco. A'ight, I'll let you folks go now; check out Quality Quidditch Supplies-the Nimbus 2000 is out!"

"Draco's not allowed to have a broomstick yet," Narcissa said, "but we'll be sure to get him one next year when he joins the Quidditch team at school. Good day, Tom."

"And you, madam."

They proceeded to the side door and Narcissa tapped a brick with her wand, causing the wall to spring into a magnificent arch. The streets loomed before them, many people bustling about purchasing their things.

"Lucius prefers Knockturn Alley," Narcissa murmured to Draco as they made a beeline for Madam Malkin's. "But Diagon Alley is less dangerous. You'll have to go to Knockturn when you come here with your father."

Inside Madam Malkin's, Draco reveled in his abilities to speak freely, conversing casually with Madam Malkin and occasionally saying something snide just so he could. His Hogwarts robes were black and green, and Narcissa even told Madam Malkin to iron on the Slytherin patch before Draco had been Sorted. ("He's a Slytherin for sure," she explained.) Then, while she headed next door to the Eeylops Owl Emporium to purchase Draco's owl, he chatted with Madam Malkin, noticing her shabby robes and suggesting she put as much work into her fashion sense as she did her products.

Draco talked with Harry Potter for a few minutes when the Boy Who Lived walked in, but soon his robes were finished and Narcissa returned just in time to pay.

"Mother, the money is off limits for today," Draco hissed as she passed seven Galleons to Madam Malkin.

"This is my own," she whispered back, and Draco felt a sudden surge of gratitude toward his mother, who worked part-time and very occasionally at Flourish and Blotts to earn a bit of money for herself for when she couldn't spend Lucius's.

They departed, and headed for ice creams. Draco got mint chip with chocolate pieces on top, and Narcissa ordered vanilla. The mother and son ate in silence that came so rarely at the manor with Mr. Malfoy yelling at the house-elves and even visitors at times.

"I fear for you, Draco," Narcissa murmured, shredding a napkin into small pieces having finished her ice cream. "I fear for you when you go to Hogwarts."

"Why?"

"Your father….has a reputation," Narcissa said uneasily. "He….he will not allow you to ruin it."

"Can I stay there for Christmas?"

Narcissa's lips stretched into a thin smile. "If you want ten days in the isolation chamber."

"But I don't want-"

"Do you think Lucius cares what you want?" Narcissa demanded sternly. "I only want the best for you, Draco, and the best for you is to come home without question, understand?"

Draco hung his head. "Yes."

* * *

"And this is Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall said, gesturing to the shops. "Do you enjoy ice cream?"

"Not particularly," Hermione answered, still in awe.

They headed for Gringotts and Hermione traded her notes for Sickles, then the two wandered around collecting supplies and shoving them into Hermione's rucksack that Professor McGonagall had magically expanded to roughly the size of an oven.

"And you can stay at the Leaky Cauldron until September comes round, or you can return to your parents' wonderful home," McGonagall was saying as Hermione pressed her nose to the glass of Quality Quidditch Supplies's window. "First years aren't allowed broomsticks, by the way."

"I think I'll go back to Mum and Dad," Hermione answered. "Thank you for all your help."

"It was my pleasure, Miss Granger. I shall see you in lessons."

McGonagall Disapparated with a loud crack and Hermione heaved her rucksack onto her shoulder, taking the Underground back to her parents' house.

"Hermione!" Christopher Granger exclaimed as she unlocked the front door. "What did that woman-"

"I'm going to Hogwarts," Hermione exclaimed, and told her parents all about magic and how she was going to study it at the castle at an undisclosable location.

"But Hermione," Jean interrupted as Hermione made to fetch her books and start memorizing, "are you sure you don't want to become a doctor? You've been talking about it for ages…."

"No," Hermione said, "I think I want to try this."

And so she did. Practicing simple spells on any inanimate objects within reach, memorizing all her textbooks by heart, trying to brew a potion and failing dismally, retrying until she succeeded. It was remarkable how much she could learn in just a month-what of an entire year?

* * *

"DRACO!" Lucius hollered, and Draco ran down the stairs dreading what was about to happen, whatever it could be. His feet stumbled on the shiny wood floor and he nearly tripped, but righted himself just in time.

"You went out to get school supplies?" Lucius bellowed furiously. "Without my permission?"

Draco hung his head, bracing himself for some more hours in the isolation chamber.. "Ye-"

"No," Narcissa shouted from the next room. "I took him out to the alley."

And Lucius was upon her, beating her, as Draco stood helpless and crying in the doorway. He ran upstairs as quickly as he possibly could run and grabbed his younger cousin's hand, shoving him into a broom closet and closing the door behind them. Narcissa's screams were deafened somewhat by the heavy door, but Ignis still heard them.

"Uncle's hurting Aunt Cissy," eight-year-old Ignis whispered to Draco. They sat across from each other, their legs and arms folded. "When can I leave?"

"Your mum and dad are still traveling," Draco told Ignis. "Your sisters are staying at the Leaky Cauldron but you refused to remain there, so they asked my dad to keep you here until they return. When, I don't know. I'm sorry."

Ignis sighed. "Mum and Dad haven't been back for years….but they never fight like Uncle and Auntie."

"I know," Draco murmured. "I know."

They did not emerge from the closet until the screaming subsided. Draco suspected that Narcissa had been confined to the isolation chamber, but soon she knocked on the door. Draco had hidden in this closet many times before, so Narcissa knew where to go. "Draco."

"Mother," Draco blurted, running into her arms as she opened the door. "I'm to blame; why did you do that?"

"I will not be permanently affected by….this," Narcissa said shakily. "You would be….you're delicate enough already. Remember the only job you have in this world right now?"

"To hide Ignis in the closet till Father stops," Draco said. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

"And if I do not come fetch you from the closet?"

"To-to run away with Ignis," Draco stuttered.

"To where?"

"Anywhere but here."

"That's my son."

They embraced, Ignis in between them. When Narcissa pulled away, she took a deep trembling breath.

"I'll be very sad to see you go, Draco...Ignis…"

"It'll be alright," Ignis said. "Mum and Dad travel a lot, so we'll be here to visit often. And Draco will come home for holidays."

Narcissa smiled weakly at her son. "Thank you, Ignis...now...run along and pack your things, Draco; the train leaves tomorrow and you wouldn't want to be running into a solid brick wall, would you?"

"I wanna go with Draco!" Ignis exclaimed.

"I know, Ignis...but you only have three years to wait, and you don't want to be beaten up by the big kids at school, do you?"

"I don't know enough magic either," Ignis volunteered.

"That's right," Narcissa said softly, and guided the eight-year-old Greengrass back to his room next to Draco's as the latter shoved items into his cauldron.

* * *

Hermione was alive and ready on the first of September, her trunk packed and repacked to perfection, her cauldron polished till it shone like the sun, and her parents reassured by many letters from Professor Dumbledore that Hermione was in good hands.

"But Hermione," Jean protested feebly at King's Cross, "there _is_ no Platform 9¾."

Jean was quite right. There was no such platform-just nine and ten. Hermione stood in between them, feeling very stupid.

"It...must be a mistake," Christopher interjected, not wanting to upset Hermione. "Let me see the ticket again…"

But the ink was clear: Hermione had to get onto Platform 9¾. And here she was, on Platform 9, with no clear way to get to Hogwarts.

"All right, folks?" a nearby train master asked. Hermione stood on her father's foot.

"Yes, of course, just waiting for the rest of the party," explained Christopher.

"Very well," the train master said, eyeing Hermione's trunk and cauldron with a curious air.

The clock on the wall ticked endlessly. Fifteen minutes to eleven.

And then Hermione saw a tabby cat hiss at her urgently.

It seemed like a mistake. But the cat pointed its paw at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, walked in front of the bricks, and then stuck its paw through.

Hermione blinked and the cat had vanished.

"Walk through the barrier," she muttered to her parents.

"Hermione Jean Granger, have you gone out of your-"

"Just do it," Hermione said confidently, and ran through the barrier.

Right into the rear end of a round-faced boy.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed as he stood from the ground, looking terrified. "What's your name?"

"I-Neville Longbottom," the boy answered timidly.

"Do you want to sit on the train together?"

"I-uh-sure," Neville stammered. "I, actually, lost my toad-just now-Gran-"

"I'll help you look for it," Hermione assured him. "Come on, we'd better get good seats...oh, wait!"

She ditched her trolley and ran back through the barrier to give her parents a hug.

"Goodness me," Jean said. "What an odd way to get to school…have fun now, Hermione, and be sure to write us if you can."

"Of course," Hermione answered. "Love you, Mum...you too, Dad."

"Tell me if there're any sports in this Wizarding world," Christopher laughed. "I'd like to fly around on a broomstick and play football...that'd be fun."

Hermione giggled. "Quidditch isn't football, Dad."

"Whatever," he answered. "Have fun now."

Hermione ran back through the barrier and to Neville, her first friend, and they together boarded the train to a new adventure.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Nyello! Thank you for still reading; I find my greatest happiness comes from readers. This is my first story and I'm pretty excited to see how it goes….I probably won't be able to update often, but I hope you like my story. This is an AU, in which Hermione is Sorted into Slytherin, and I hope that's believable since she's really ambitious. It just goes to show that the Houses mean nothing, because people can be courageous, and intelligent, and loyal, and friendly, and ambitious, and cunning. There's no need to be just one.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and I can't wait to see how this goes!

Nataree


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